The Art of Dying
by NaomiMiller
Summary: There was a certain art form to dying. George Weasley had learned this lesson earlier than most


**A/N: I'm just going to apologize ahead of time. I'm sorry. This was inspired partly by prompt 83: "To die was an art." from the Daily HPFanFic Prompts Tumblr page and by "The Long Day is Over" by Norah Jones and "Beauty from Pain" by Superchick, both of which I had on loop while writing this. DISCLAIMER: Any thing, one, or place you may recognize belongs solely to JK Rowling. Enjoy.**

There was a certain art form to dying. George Weasley had learned this lesson earlier than most. Such was the price of war. Some people slipped quietly away in their sleep with all their affairs in order, confident that things will be taken care of after they were gone. There were some who fought death tooth and nail, not wanting to leave this world for whatever lay beyond. Some trudged grudgingly and painfully towards that cliff, too tired to fight it anymore, wanting nothing more than the release it offered. Some people spent their entire lives flinging themselves at that abyss until one day it finally swallowed them. Some were taken so suddenly that they never saw it coming until the light had already faded from their eyes. To George though, Fred had perfected the art of dying. His twin brother had always been one for style and he had certainly gone out with it. He had known the risks of going into this battle. He known there was a chance he might be killed and still he went in without a second thought. He had died fighting for something he loved with a joke on his lips and a smile on his face as if welcoming death as he would an old friend. Yes, his brother had certainly perfected the art of dying.

After the battle was over George had slipped quietly away from his friends and family, needing to grieve in private. He wandered the castle halls until he found himself in the miraculously intact Gryffindor common room, where he and Fred had shared so many memories. This was where they had tested out some of their first products, where they had laughed and joked with friends. This was where Fred had met Angelina whom he had dated throughout most of his school career and after. It was where they had shared many a conversation by the roaring fireplace. They had planned some of their greatest pranks in this room. George thought it was a fitting place to grieve for his twin.

He was sitting in the exact same chair he had sat in when they had planned their master escape from Hogwarts in their seventh year. He smiled as he remembered Fred imitating Umbridge as their firework dragon had chased her through the Great Hall. On his walk through the castle George had stopped in at the piece of their Portable Swamp that the professors had left up. He was surprised that it had survived the last year, what with the Death Eaters taking over Hogwarts. He didn't know that when Professor Flitwick had left this piece up, he had placed wards on it to prevent it from being removed. George gazed into the crackling fire as his eyes misted over.

He felt like someone had ripped a giant hole in his chest that would never close. They were no longer Gred and Forge. Now it just him, George. They hadn't been two individual people really. They were two parts of a whole and now one part was missing and George didn't think that he could bear the pain that caused it. More than anything he wished that he could have followed Fred, but his brother was somewhere that for once, George could not follow. He still didn't understand why Fred of all people had to die. Couldn't they have taken someone else?

His grief and pain welled up inside him until it finally flowed out of his eyes, his mouth, and his lungs in great, gut-wrenching sobs that shook him to his very core. He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was drowning in his own tears. How could he go on without Fred? How could there be a life for him without his other half, without his best friend, without that knew him better than anyone else? He sobbed until he thought he didn't have anything left and then broke down some more. Finally, emotionally wrung out and physically exhausted he fell into the oblivion of sleep.

George awoke the next morning to one of the most beautiful sunrises he had ever seen. He stood at the window, watching the sun climb free of the Forbidden Forest. It was a reminder that life went on, regardless of everything else. He was still here, even if Fred wasn't. In the light of day George was appalled at the things that he had been thinking last night. Fred would have been ashamed of him. He could almost feel his brother's presence in the room with him. It was as if Fred was telling him that there were so many things left to live for, his family and friends, the shop. There was so much to do now that the war was over and George knew that with everything that happened people would be in need of a good laugh. It's what Fred would've wanted if he'd been here. There were so many sunrises left to see and George would see them all for both of them. He remembered something that Harry had told him from a conversation with Sirius. _The people we love never really leave us._ George smiled through the tears that were slowly trickling down his face.

"You're not really gone Forge, you'll always be with me. You always have. I can't follow you now, but one day we'll be together again," he said to the rising sun. George stood there until the sun had fully risen. He left the window and went to head downstairs to join all those he still had left.

As he opened the common room door he swore that he could hear his brother's laughter echoing through the room. George smiled as he wiped his eyes. Yes, his brother had certainly perfected the art of dying; an art that George wasn't allowed to learn yet.

**A/N: I'm sorry! Don't blame me, blame my muse who is apparently in a mood to completely break my heart. Anyways, as always I would love to know what you think. Leave a message after this note~Naomi**


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